That Crazy Thing Called Love
by Lemurr
Summary: Buffy Summers. Typical everyday girl chosen to fight the forces of darkness. Cool, huh? She's been fine with the help of her friends in the past, but what happens when a new force blows into town and makes things even harder? Impossible, even? Read to fin
1. Prologue & Chapter one

Disclaimer: Anything that doesn't look like something owned by someone else? It's mine.  
  
Authors' Note: Please please PLEASE do not accuse me of plaigerism or anything like that... I am simply writing a story off the top of my head. I have already been suspected of such in the past... I swear it's all my own work! O.O I'm innocent! Right... -cough- so now that I've scared you all away... COME BACK HERE AND READ MY FANFIC, GODDAMN. Enjoy.  
  
Rated PG-13 because I'm sure that it won't get any more violent than that.  
  
Prologue  
  
The wind along the seashore blew through the sands, kicking up miniature tornadoes as it played along the surface. The swells coming off the sea had risen over two feet in the last hour, and there was definitely a storm brewing. The old boards of the docks in Docktown were sloshed with salty waters; the winds whipping past swinging signs along the warehouses. They groaned, not used to the movement. Large thunderheads were rolling in, barely visible against the already almost pitch black sky.  
  
"The weatherman never lies in Sunnydale." The Slayer quipped, looking up at the skies. She had expected a quiet night, but after she found the Fish Tank completely ripped up inside she realized that she should have never assumed anything about the night. The wind tossed her hair up, softly curled tendrils lashing at her face. She turned to face the wind, squinting into the darkness. There was no point in hanging around here. The vamps that had been feasting on the scum that the Fish Tank usually attracted had been dusted, the bodies counted, and the victims told to flee; which they had quite readily. All that was left now was a sweep of one graveyard on the way home and then she could hit the hay.  
  
As she made her way from the coastline inland, she saw that the storms hadn't forced many people indoors. To spite the sky which was threatening to break over their heads, there were still masses of milling people in the streets. They came spilling out from the Bronze, whose walls were throbbing with sounds. They spewed out about the Expresso Pump where posh music played, mixing with the pulsing to create a horrible yet alluring beat. Nothing to worry about here, she thought as she sifted through the crowded street. She noticed that the Sun Cinema was playing another midnight double- feature, which she considered for a moment before deciding it a bad idea. Slayers gotta do her duty, after all. She turned off the main road, choosing a back alley to bring her across the town and to one of several graveyards in Sunnydale.  
  
This one was particularly large in size and number of tombstones. Perfect place for a little rough and tumble if it was called for. However, as much as she wanted it to be true, there were no vampires lounging about in the crypts or caves tonight. Where had they all been? Sure there had been a good number down around the Fish Tank earlier, but here it was barren. It seemed barren, anyway, until something caught her eye.  
  
Something was lurking by the closed entrance to the cemetery. It was a long, lanky shadow among the trashcans. By the way it moved Buffy could instantly tell it wasn't human. Its long arms stretched down to the ground; or at least well into the darkness so Buffy could suspect they brushed the ground. The wiry frame seemed to be nothing more than a black hole in the picture of the cemetery. It hadn't moved; except for its head, which was large and rounded off into a snout. It reminded her crudely of a horse's head. It seemed to stare at her; without eyes. Then, as if it knew Buffy was assuming it had no eyes, two large, ovular green-white beacons appeared. 'Ok...' Buffy thought, 'this can't be good.'  
  
The thing came out from behind the cans. As it rose to its full height Buffy almost gasped. It stood at what appeared to be just over six and a half feet. Its snout was home to several rows of razor sharp fangs, and at the ends of its incredibly overstretched arms (on which its knuckles nearly scraped the ground when it moved) were talons several inches long. To spite the appearance of the...thing, Buffy put on her best game face, reaching into her pack and pulling out a sword. She had a feeling kicks and punches wouldn't be enough to take this thing down. "Well hello there," she said, trying one of her quips on for size, "what do we ha--"  
  
Before Buffy could finish, talons met with her side. She had managed to jump back quick enough to save her torso from being sliced into four parts, but there were four tears along her shirt; four gashes in her stomach. 'Ok no more quips.' Buffy decided, planting her feet and ignoring the pain in her side. She had to take this... thing down. Brandishing the sword, she pushed off the ground, hurtling herself toward it. It snarled at her, daring her to try and take it down. She slashed downward quickly, hoping to at least hit if not kill it. However it was faster than she was, and was already out of the way and behind her. It brought its hands up over its head, making a fist and bludgeoning Buffy in the back of the head. Buffy let out a small groan as she slumped to the ground, blacking out. The last thing she saw was the thing running off into the cemetery. It had been smarter than she was. It had beaten her.  
  
Chapter One  
  
She could feel her heart slam against her rib cage as she took the blow for her witchy friend. It struck her cheek hard and sent her flying into the wall of the dark alley. She hit with bone-jarring force, and felt something snap inside. "Tara!" Willow yelped, trying to go to her side before the vampire caught her arm. Tara had saved Willow from one blow, but now the redhead was standing alone against the vampire. She watched in agonizing horror as the red head lost her balance and took a solid punch to the stomach. Willow winced and fell to the ground, doubled over in surprise more than pain. She seemed stunned and frozen as the vampire towered over her. Just as he was slipping his fingers around Willow's neck, a familiar whiz cut through the air and the vampire whined as the arrow pierced his heart with trained accuracy. He exploded into a cloud of dust and ash, and stepping through the cloud was their best friend, the Slayer.  
  
"You guys all right?" Buffy inquired as she dusted the vampire remnants from her designer coat, slinging her cross-bow over one shoulder.  
  
"I think..." Willow got up slowly and looked in Tara's direction. Her face became twisted with worry and she jogged to Tara's side.  
  
"Tara? Are you ok?" She knelt beside her, looking her over quickly, then kept her focused gaze on Tara's face, eyes locking with hers.  
  
"Y-yeah, I think..." She was lying on her side, her cheek bruising from the vampire's contact. She pushed off the ground with one arm, propping herself up momentarily on her elbow, then letting herself fall back onto her side.  
  
"You don't look so ok," Willow retorted rather sweetly as she slipped her arms around Tara, lifting her up into a sitting position and pulling her close. Tears were coming to her eyes, but she fought them back as she murmured, "Is it your shoulder?" Tara nodded slowly, looking over one shoulder into Willow's eyes.  
  
"It's n-not bad." She said reassuringly once she caught Willow's expression. Willow smiled meekly and helped Tara to her feet, looking over to Buffy. Buffy had been silent during their little talk, not wanting to interrupt anything between them.  
  
"Is she all right?" Buffy asked, seeing the look on Willow's face and feeling her stomach churn.  
  
"We'll see," Willow replied softly, looking back to Tara who was cradling her arm. "Let's just get out of here before any more vampies decide to snack on us."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
They came up the steps to the Summers' home at a moderate pace, Buffy opening the door and holding it open for them. Willow slipped inside, followed by Tara. She was shivering slightly, still cradling her arm. Through the low neck of her jacket, Willow could see Tara's collarbone swelling. "C'mon," she said softly, wrapping an arm loosely around Tara's waist, "Let's get you taken care of." Tara smiled an honest, sweet smile, and let Willow lead her up the stairs of the old house and through the hallway, into their room.  
  
Buffy stood alone at the foot of the stairs, about to close the door when Spike sauntered up behind her, growling in her ear seductively. She jumped and turned around, glaring at Spike, holding back from throwing a punch into his jaw. "Spike! How did you get in?"  
  
"I walked, love." He grinned; a wicked, sinister grin that made Buffy shudder.  
  
"I don't have time for you right now." She spat quickly, turning her back to him, folding her arms across her chest. Before she could turn her back completely, Spike grabbed her arm.  
  
"What are you doing?" she glared and pulled away. He stood looking at her, obviously thinking of something witty to say back. Instead of an insult or comment, he studied her, then looked down.  
  
"Right then, I'll be back." Before Buffy could say anything, he was gone. This frustrated her. He came over to torment her and she didn't even get to find out what it was he wanted. Buffy muttered under her breath as she closed the door and sighed heavily. It had been an unusually active night for her, vampires seemingly everywhere. But that was life on the Hellmouth, wasn't it? Buffy dragged herself into the living room and flopped onto the couch, exhausted.  
  
Upstairs, Tara sat on the bed, Willow coming over to her. She carefully unzipped the hooded jacket and took it off Tara's bad arm, keeping her eyes averted from Tara's collarbone at first. She set the jacket aside and looked up. She came close to Tara and Tara sighed deeply, only to be interrupted by a yelp of sudden pain as Willow touched the bruised swollen area. Willow looked up. "Sorry," she murmured as she went back to inspecting, "This'll only take a second..." She rested a hand on Tara's weary shoulder and gripped it firmly. So firmly Tara was worried Willow was going to break it. Instead, she shifted it back and forth slowly, watching the bruised spot. In correspondence, something inside moved and shifted back into place. Tara screamed in sudden pain and Willow shot her a look. "Sorry..." she murmured again as she watched Tara's eyes tear.  
  
"Why'd you do that?!" She squeaked, pulling away, her glare cast upon Willow.  
  
"I had to," she explained, "It's broken... I needed to get it back into the right place, I'm sorry." She apologized again.  
  
Tara was a forgiving soul, and seeing that Willow really meant her no harm, she nodded and forced a weak smile. "Don't be s-sorry," she said softly, "I-I understand." Willow smiled back in understanding and nodded to herself reassuringly.  
  
She had to get Tara taken care of now; she could clearly see that there was nothing more she could do for her here. Nothing medically, anyway. She could use magick, but Tara had said no before. Willow didn't want to make Tara uncomfortable by using a spell to help her. Instead, Willow rose, going out of the room. A few minutes later she came back with some first aid equipment and a glass of water. "Take these..." she said, offering Tara two aspirins and a glass of water. Without a word Tara took them, downing the pills quickly. Willow looked down, taking it as an indicator that it hurt far more than she could imagine. Willow shook her thoughts from her head, going into the kit and retrieving several different things. She sat in front of Tara, slowly examining the rest of her body for cuts, scrapes, and broken bones. The collarbone would have to wait for now.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"News...news...news...infomercial... news..." Buffy muttered half asleep as she flipped through the channels. 'There's never anything good on past 11,' Buffy thought as she ran into a rerun of "I Love Lucy". As she quickly became absorbed in the show, the door behind her creaked open almost soundlessly and Dawn emerged. She had been out past curfew and was hoping Buffy would be asleep. She saw that Buffy wasn't paying any attention to the door and closed it discreetly, slinking toward the kitchen. "Dawn?" Buffy's voice carried over the back of the couch and into the dining room, where Dawn had almost made it around the corner.  
  
"Yes?" She said sheepishly, standing up and coming back into the living room, an embarrassed grin to match painted across her face.  
  
"It's late," Buffy muttered, tired of repeating herself, "Past 11." she added pointedly.  
  
"I know, I know. But there was this really great band playing at the Bronze and we were having such a--"  
  
"Save it Dawn, we'll talk about this in the morning." Buffy said without looking up. She was tired of always trying to get Dawn to behave and come home on time. She obviously needed another method, this one wasn't working. 'Maybe if I lock her in her room she'll learn...' Buffy thought, but that idea was soon dismissed. Maybe it was time Dawn was allowed to be out late, get into trouble, and not get saved. It was a horrible thought; letting her get hurt, but maybe it would teach her to listen. Buffy had had it at this point; there was nothing she could try to get everything to go her way. She wanted to run to Giles, but she knew he had told her to be good. He was in England now, and she couldn't get him to come back; not unless it was an emergency. And unless someone close to her died there probably wouldn't be an emergency worth flying half way around the world for. Not in her lifetime anyway. She sighed again, clicking off the television. Nothing good was on, and she wanted to make sure Dawn had really gone to bed. Standing, she turned out the light by the couch and headed up the stairs, without even bothering to check the door to see if Dawn had locked it. Alighting at the top of the stairs, she came to her room, all thoughts of checking on Dawn forgotten, and fell into her bed. She was asleep before she hit the pillow.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Something wasn't letting Willow sleep. Maybe it was the fact that her lover was beside her whimpering on and off, in more pain than Willow could even begin to comprehend. She highly doubted that was it. Something seemed off-balance; out of place even. She cast a weary glance around the dark room, seeing everything where it had always been. She sighed softly, settling next to Tara, who was bandaged up. Willow hadn't even taken the time to worry about herself. Now she was feeling the weight of the battle the two had gotten into. She frowned, trying to remember everything beyond that solitary moment in the fight when Tara was flung like a sack of potatoes across the alleyway. How had they gotten there, anyway?  
  
Oh, yes. She remembered now. She had been at the Bronze with Tara. It was a casual evening; allowing them to dress in jeans without a second glance. Sometimes they liked to dress up, even pretend that they were at some fabulous party, but tonight had simply been a night of relaxation—a time to unwind. There was minimal dancing with the occasional kiss across the table. The evening had seemed to be going fine until Tara had suddenly mentioned that she hadn't been feeling well. Willow was obviously concerned and suggested a walk home. As they left the Bronze, they had been suddenly confronted by a vampire. But not just any vampire—this one seemed to be juiced up on something; almost like magick. That couldn't have been right, could it? She didn't know, but there was a certain energy coming off him. She'd have to remember to tell that to Buffy... There was a big fight and Buffy had captured the element of surprise, dusting the baddie before he could snap Willow's neck. It seemed pretty normal, considering the number of times they'd been attacked in the past; besides the power-hummy feeling Willow was getting just thinking about the vampire. She'd have to tell Buffy; she couldn't forget. She just couldn't...  
  
Before she could complete her mental note, she was fast asleep. Outside the leaves that blustered about scratched at the window, the wind whistling through the trees. Tara was asleep as well; whimpering and tossing uncomfortably. Willow didn't even notice that she was there. It was like the whole world had been put to sleep, save Tara. Dawn had also simply dropped onto the bed. Much in the fashion of her sister; the whole household was trapped in sleep. 


	2. Chapter two

Chapter Two  
  
Several hours had passed since Spike had made his surprise appearance at Buffy's house. Since then he had gone through several bars and clubs before finally settling down in the safety of his own crypt. He arranged himself in his easy chair comfortably, staring at the blank TV screen. He sighed softly. Everything was always the same. Always normal. Always bland. Buffy would always hate everything he stood for. He was nothing more than a pet and he knew it. A slave to love, if you will. However, it somehow made him happy. Somewhere in his chipped brain, he got pleasure out of torturing himself.  
  
It was always fun to swing by and give Buffy a little scare once in a while. He chuckled at the thought, picking up a shot of stale gin and downing it quickly. She was always running around trying to save the world. 'Or at least pretending to...' Spike thought. Sure, Buffy could fool everyone while running rampant slaying and playing her part like she had before her death; but Spike knew she wasn't in the game. Part of her was vulnerable and needy. That was the part he got to play with once in a while. He was ashamed of that almost; but he was more frustrated with Buffy pretending when she knew she couldn't fool herself or him. It bothered him that she would just hide that. Sure, no one could relate, but she needed to release it some time, right?  
  
That had been why she came to him. She needed to let the stress go. Needed to feel a physical connection with someone. Spike was always more than ready to offer his services when Buffy wanted them, and when he did he made sure he did a damn good job. It kept her coming back, always wanting just one more time; one more release. Spike sighed softly, staring at the blank TV again. He wished she'd come by now. Dangling himself in front of her must not have made her want it that badly. Her loss, he supposed; even if it was his loss too. There was still an hour until sunrise, and, taking advantage of the fact, he went out into the cool, dead night air.  
  
Spike climbed to the roof of his crypt in a swift motion, perching himself on the crest and looking out over the graveyard. His graveyard, he corrected himself. No sign of Slay-'n'-go or the little bit. No sign of any of the scoobies, really. He sighed, the trace of a frown finding its way into his features. Sure, they'd already been out that night, but the Slayer always came back by herself when Spike had been lurking. Something was a tad peculiar about that. He sat in serious thought for a moment, actually contemplating going over to her house and making sure everything was all right. Once his glance hit the horizon line he quickly changed his mind. Over the line of blackness, a thin line of green was appearing and spreading into the azure of the sky. He'd have no time to go see now. Not without singeing his mitts in the process, anyway. Sliding off the roof and onto his feet, he slipped back inside, pulling the door shut tight. Once inside he went straight for what he called a bed, collapsing onto it and drifting off to sleep.  
  
Spike awoke, finding himself outside Buffy's house. He squinted, looking up at the pale blue sky. Through the tall trees sun painted patches across his chest. He felt the heat and saw the intensity but he did not burn. Standing up, he shook himself off. He had been covered in sand and leaves. His boots were muddy and the ends of his pants were wet. What had he been doing? He didn't know, and frankly he didn't care. Stepping onto the porch, he found the door open a crack. Pushing it open with a muddied boot, he stepped inside, finding that there was no barrier to keep him out like he had expected. He came into the foyer, glancing to his left. The dining room was empty. A laptop sat on the table, still open to a site. Willow must have been side tracked, he thought. He looked to his left, finding the living room to be completely in shambles. The window panes had all been smashed in; the curtains were tattered and torn. The couch was ripped from the glass. Something suggested an explosion had occurred.  
  
He came into the room quickly, looking everything over. The TV had been smashed. The wires to every electrical device had been slashed. But that was not the worst thing he saw. Blood. Blood was everywhere. The stench was so strong it made his mouth water and his head hurt. The coppery zing could even be detected by someone who was not of vampiric nature. But where had it all come from? Then he saw. Behind the chair, in front of the weapons chest. Someone was there; or what had been someone. Afraid of what he might see, he slowly made his way around to see. The mutilated figure, which could hardly be recognized at this point, having already been torn open and ripped apart, was none other than...  
  
Spike shot up in bed, sweat running down his face and back. Even though he didn't need to breathe he was panting and gasping. Whatever that dream was, he didn't plan on going back to sleep any time soon to find out who exactly that was. He needed a drink. Throwing off the thin sheet, he crossed his crypt to find his bottles empty. Frustrated, he threw one against the wall, only satisfied once the glass shattered. Opening a door he had put into the floor, he slid down a ladder and disappeared into the sewers, off to the Alibi for a good drink and maybe a brawl. 


End file.
